


'I'm calling you out'

by eeeeeeeeeeeeeaSports



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: About to Die, Actor Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Angst, Car Accidents, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Desperation, Fear of Death, Human Sides (Sanders Sides), M/M, Near Death Experience, Near Death Experiences, Nothing is okay, Presumed Dead, Prinxiety angst, Roman is clueless, Virgil Angst, angsty boys, do it now, dying, https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ, its death if theres one chapter, kind of death?, majour character death but only if this has one chapter, put spaghetti in your new notebook, virgil is probably dead, you coward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25296574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeeeeeeeeaSports/pseuds/eeeeeeeeeeeeeaSports
Summary: He found himself questioning things quite a lot. Why did the universe start? Why did scientists name it 'black ice'? Was it even scientists? Why wasnt he calling the police as he bled out in a car down near god knows where?Well hell if he knew.[NOTES: I will add additional warnings to the notes section! Please read them if you're prone to trigger warnings! This is very Virgil-centric angst, so buckle up, kids]
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	'I'm calling you out'

**Author's Note:**

> sup, so it's super late rn and I wanted to write angst so I wrote angst okay here's the angst enjoy-
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> -car crash  
> -blood  
> -mentions of depression  
> -some suppression time  
> -nothing is okay  
> -that one picture with the dog inside with the house on fire  
> -that's this fic  
> -death?

He doesn't know how it ended up like this. 

A simple hit and run was all it was, until the black ice came into the picture and swerved him into a rail of metal that inevitably toppled him down, down _down_.

(So far down he couldn't recognize anything around him anymore)

So now he sat, his car upright but just barely, as he looked up in almost betrayal to the top of the small cliff he had just fallen victim to. he watched as a few rocks crumbled and fell down like dust in comparison to the weight of his own vehicle. 

'The railings must have been rusty', he supplies. He thinks 'must have been', but he knows it more like a fact. 

He can see the rusted, flaky metal from here. The browns coated with the too reddish residue of his own blood as the stray metal pierces his flesh. Right through his middle. He doesn't know how that part happened, but the broken windshield and glass shards beside him in the empty passenger seat should be enough to indicate such a thing. 

It was a shame. 

(No, it was _more_ than a shame, but he wouldn't let his mind wander and trip in the darkness of his own spiraling thoughts)

How long had it been? 

Just one trip. That's all it was supposed to be, and now he hadn't seen his fiancé in almost two months. He doubted he ever would, again.

Right, his fiancé. 

Roman.

His mind was short-circuiting, surely. He was going to die here. He _knew_ he was going to die here. 

(He didn't want to die here)

At every movement, at every twinge and twitch of emotion, the white-hot pain of the metal seethed within him. Was he stuck in some sort of sick cycle of endless pain? Possibly. Probably. 

_God_.

Adrenaline was his lifeline, now. 

He didn't even know exactly _where_ he was anymore. He couldn't tell, the darkness that embedded its way into his vision from the new night sky (or perhaps his approaching death experience) was hindering his analysis and interpretation of the place. 

Reaching over to the passenger seat, gasping and spluttering in pain as more blood oozed out of his wound, he scooped his phone up and fumbled with the buttons. 

He swiped a streak of blood across the screen with his thumb. An accident, but the least of his concerns. 

It was dying. 

Just like him, his phone was going to die here, at the quickly dwindling percentage of charge.

They were going to die alone, with just each other, the shell of emptiness that they both were. The police wouldn't get here in time. They'd probably need a helicopter, or a special team to reach him down the cliffside. That would take _forever_ , surely. 

He didn't have time. 

He didn't want to die alone. 

(He didn't want to _die_ )

Unlocking his phone with shaky hands, he typed furiously at his keyboard. 

Type, delete, type, delete, send. 

He switched contacts. 

'hey, just stopped off at a gas station, call?' the message composed to his fiancé read. He watched the three little dots appear and disappear a few times over, their inconsistent appearance accurate to his own patience at this point. 

'sure! What, miss my voice that much? <3 I'll call u?' was the reply, finally. With tear-brimmed eyes and a shaky, sad smile, his blood stricken fingers sifted through words for another response. 

'ill call you, this dude at the next pump looks shady af' he formed, the excuse ripe. Make it seem normal, casual, prolong the Inevitable, and do it well; that's what he told himself. 

He missed the next two messages by closing the messenger app, instead opting for his contact list. 

He was going to die, but he couldn't let Roman know. 

He didn't want him to panic. If he was going to die, he wanted to just remember Roman. Hear him one last time, speak to him, maybe bicker like they did as if second nature. 

More importantly, he wanted Roman to remember him like he _was_ , not as he is. He doesn't want his lover to have to hear him in pain, it isn't fair. 

He wanted to die at _peace_ with himself. 

With his _fiancé_.

After using the formulated (four, seven, eight) breathing technique, he pressed the call button with the bloodied pad of his forefinger and felt nerves wrangle his chest. 

Or perhaps that was his heart stuttering for its last few beats. 

"Virgil!" Came the delighted, sing-song voice of his spouse. If it was possible for someone's heart to break even more, it would have. His voice was so carefree, so oblivious...

Roman didn't know. He _couldn't_ know. 

Ever. 

He forced a small chuckle, bathing in the success of how normal it sounded. "Hey, Ro." He responded meekly. It was soft, tender, it had to be. 

He didn't want to risk his voice breaking. 

"So I take it you're close? The only station for like, miles is pretty nearby." His fiance joked. That was true. Roman loved the idea of a fancy, mystical looking home setting- and Virgil quite enjoyed the aesthetic of the lonesome environment they had settled for. 

(It was unnerving, at first, but he found peace in the hairline cracks in the earth that doubled as small streams)

"Yeah, I'm pretty close by," also true, he remembers actually passing the gas station before the crash. He stops his mind from wandering with a huff of a supposed laugh, one that was originally a groan of pain- a wheeze, that he quickly covered with a disguise. "I guess I just...couldn't wait to hear you again." He half-joked. 

There was a hearty laugh through the receiver. It was a beautiful laugh, one that- for the last twelve years of his life- he had come to adore. 

Small, wet tears dripped from his chin and onto the phone screen, mixing with the blood that soon became fluid enough to join its brethren on the supposed murder weapon. He watched, helpless, as the blood and tears came to caress the image of him and Roman that he had set as a profile picture. it was a nice picture, too, one from their most recent date. The one they had just before Virgil went away on his trip.

(probably the last date they'd ever have together)

God, he was _crying_. 

He hoped it was quiet. 

"Awe, did you really miss me that much? Hard to believe a professional tsundere such as yourself would ever even consider admitting it." Roman teased. 'yes', Virgil wanted to scream. 'yes I do miss you, I miss you and I love you, and I want to hug you before I fucking die but I can't', his mind continued to supply, pulling more tears down his face. 

Instead, he just let his head fall back against the glass stained headrest. The jolt sent pain through his body, and he graciously pulled the phone away from his face to try and mask any and all sounds he may have let slip in protest. 

Pulling the phone closer again, his expression fell back into a small, sad smile. "Hey, that's not true..." He mumbled defensively. There was a fond hum, then. 

"I know, my dark and stormy night-" the irony pulled at his heart as the small pitter-patter of rain against the dented car bonnet made itself abundantly clear against his overworked senses. When had it even started raining? 

A soft sigh and Virgil could hear the smile in his beloved's voice as he spoke. "I know you can be soft when you wanna be. Did something happen, or do you just feel super affectionate?" He cooed into the receiver. 

He clenched his teeth, then, the sob crawling its way up his throat and making itself _very_ known as fat tears roll down his reddened cheeks. 

"Affectionate." He finally managed, more a fleeting breath than a word, but he hoped it fit his picture-perfect situation. 

He was nowhere near as good of an actor as his fiancé. No, he never claimed to be at all- do you know how good you have to be to top a professional? But he was good enough. Good enough at forcing, feigning happiness and joy, and being okay. 

His practice made perfect. 

The bittersweet sorrow, the memories of a younger and more naive Roman trying to help Virgil out of his own pit of dispair- the memories filled his mind like hardening concrete. The days he considered the dark days. The days where the acting was helpful, used almost as frequently as he breathed. 

The days that ended with Roman. Ended with _hope_. 

"I just-" Virgil continued, biting his lip to contain everything. The pain, the scream bubbling in his throat, the unshed skin of words he'd left unsaid. A small breath that he hopes is downplayed as nerves- "I just love you, Roman." He manages finally, and the tears are falling so much more freely now. 

His romanticist lovers' soft gasp doesn't go unnoticed. It's small, fleeting, because Virgil doesn't say it a lot. Roman knows Virgil loves him, he shows it instead of saying it because he can't help the anxiety of telling him like it's simple. Whenever he tells him he loved him, Roman always acts like his world has been lit up by ten thousand fireflies. 

Maybe it has, in his eyes. 

(Maybe he won't ever, again)

((Or maybe someone else will make him feel that way))

(((Maybe Roman didn't need _him_ to be happy at all)))

"Hey, don't you worry, stormcloud. I'll be sure to shower you in all your dearly missed love and affection when you get here, okay? I've already got black cauldron set up on the TV." He spoke soothingly. God, he spoke it so softly, so delicately, and part of Virgil wanted to die where he sat- and the other half wanted to 'just please let me live!'

The pain was unbearable. 

He was going to pass out, he was sure of it. 

(Didn't Logan say falling asleep was a bad idea in situations like this?)

"Sounds great, Princey." He forced, adding a small chuckle and forcing the pep into his voice. "Hey, I gotta go. I'll be there soon though, so you better have the popcorn ready." 

He felt himself physically strain as he said that. God, he felt guilty. Was this leading him on? 

_Yes_. Definitely, it was, but he didn't want to hurt him. Didn't want him to have to know. 

Didn't want- "Sure thing, my glorious emo nightmare. I'll see you soon, my love." Romans voice announced, cutting through his thoughts with a blade as hot as the pain shooting into his every nerve. 

"Cya soon." Virgil mumbled, lazily hanging up. 

He let his eyes slip shut, his phone falling to his lap (after a small collision with the metal that may as well have become a part of him at this point), and the pain taking over his body. 

_Maybe_ , maybe a nap wasn't such a bad idea.

**Author's Note:**

> So you made it to the end, you decide if that's lucky or not. If you can see the lil 'next chapter' button on his stupid fic, it's because I decided I wanted to make it a happy ending. If not? Too bad for you and happiness is as dead as Virge turns out to be. 
> 
> Have a fantastic day!
> 
> (I'll probably edit and update this as my writing style gets better and I don't die of sleep deprivation)


End file.
